


The Girl Who Falls

by cinderfell



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Canon Temporary Character Death, Character Study, F/M, Light Angst, mentioned enough to warrant a tag tho?, others are mentioned but they're the only ones with dialogue so, romance mentioned but not focus, spoilers up until episode 48
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-06 04:03:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6737467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinderfell/pseuds/cinderfell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vex'ahlia's life is defined by a cycle of flying and falling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Girl Who Falls

**Author's Note:**

> i'm just?? trying out a different writing style than my usual one. vex just happened to be my victim.

She’s eight when she falls for the first time.  


Vax is a flighty child. He runs from her, from their mother, from anything that scares him.  


He runs and she spends her days chasing after him.  


He runs from her when she finds him upset. She follows, their legs carrying them out of their small home and out into Byroden. They pass villagers who roll their eyes and jump out of the way of the two half-elf children, used to their games.  


She follows him up a pair of stairs built into the side of a hill. Vax, ever the fleet-footed one, takes the stairs two at a time. She follows behind him at a slower pace, eyes never leaving her brother. She barely reaches the top before her foot catches in a cracked portion of the stairs. For a moment all she sees is her twin still running, his hair blowing behind him with every step farther away from her.  


All she feels is the scrape of rock and dirt against her flesh as she rolls down the stairs. There’s a loud crack of her her head hitting the rock at the bottom, the space between her ears erupting in agony before everything cuts to black.  


When she comes to, Vax’ildan is cradling her in his arms.  


“Vax.” She’s not sure if he even understands her. All she knows is that he sees her eyes opening again. When their eyes meet he bursts into tears.  


“I should’ve looked back,” he cries, clutching the fabric of her shirt with small fingers.  


Her arms and legs are raw, her hands sliced open from where they caught on the jagged stairs on her fall. The pounding at the base of her skull tells her that she will likely have a lump there come morning.  


Vax pulls her up onto his back and slowly carries her home. She wraps her arms around him and buries her face in his shoulder. The cuts along her body burn with every step they take.  


It’s the worst pain she’s ever felt in her entire life.

* * *

Years later she falls at the ziggurat, limbs splayed. She drifts above her friends, the flight potion humming through her veins. Her eyes are on Lady Briarwood and then suddenly she’s reeling back, her eyes on the ceiling and then nothing.  


She can’t move but she can feel the way her friends grab her. She feels the tingle of magic attempting to breath life into her but there’s no change. Liquid slides down her throat. Nothing. When she comes back Vax is holding her, cursing and thanking their double-edged luck in the same minute.  


He wants to hold her longer but she gets up anyways, brushing his hands off of her. They have work to do.  


Her whole body aches for the feeling of flight. Despite the disastrous end of the original flight potion, she searches for more.  


She needs it.

* * *

With Percy it’s a different type of falling.  


She feels it for the first time when he gives her the arrows as they deliver the horn. She grabs his face and kisses him and he steps back from her grasp, bewildered. It’s just a spark. She barely even recognizes it. It stirs in her chest for a brief moment before fizzling out like a dying ember.  


It surfaces again in Whitestone. He’s in agony and she feels powerless. She kisses his cheek and assures him that they’re here for him. She doesn’t tell anybody but she’s scared he won’t live to see his home liberated.  


Her fears are almost realized when she hits the ground in the skirmish with Anders.  


She’s on her knees beside Percy, their friends fighting for their lives around them. She watches the smoke billow out from behind his mask and all she wants is to grab him and cradle him close to her. She can’t even fathom what it is happening to him but there’s nothing that hurts her more than to see him in this state.  


She settles for grabbing his hand, curling her fingers through his. They’re cold. Clammy.  


“Take the mask off, darling.” Can he hear the crack in her voice? Can he hear her at all?  


For a moment she fears they’ve lost him. Oh _gods_ , what if she’s lost him? Then, hesitantly, his hand reaches up and slowly pulls the mask back. His eyes are wild and dark but she knows he can hear her and understand her. That’s all that matters to her.  


She does what she always does: she gets back up and fights.

* * *

She’s standing in the tomb, a trickle of blood running down the left side of her face. She rubs it away with back of her hand as she takes long strides towards Percy, feeling it smear. She feels relief as she steps up to join him.The tomb had played it’s ace. Anything after a beholder would seem like a mouse in comparison.  


She reaches Percy’s side just as he touches the armor.  


Before she can even contemplate reaching out to grab his hand she feels her body leave the ground. For a moment she’s eight years old again, watching Vax run from her as she tumbles backwards into the unknown.  


She doesn’t feel herself hit the ground.  


She wakes to the tear-stained faces of her friends huddled around her. She’s in Vax’s arms, the black feathers of his armor tickling the back of her neck. He trembles against her, hands raking across her face as if trying to memorize her.  


She doesn’t understand.  


Keyleth cries, her hand clutching Vax’s shoulder. Grog is silent, his eyes glazed over with memories of Pike. Scanlan, usually collected even in times of crisis, has a slight shake in the hand at his side. Percy is quiet, his mouth parted slightly and his eyes wide. He hangs just behind Zahra, who holds Vex’s hand in her own. Kashaw looks equally shaken and relieved.  


Her brother’s tears drip onto her face.  


_She doesn’t understand._

* * *

She feels… empty.  


Like she was disassembled and put back together but somebody left out some parts.  


Keyleth empties her tears in front of her later and she realizes how much this family means to the druid. Meaning so much to somebody who isn’t Vax unsettles her. She leaves Keyleth crying in the back room of the saloon.  


Percy avoids her after and she hates every second of it. He approaches her as they ready themselves to test the broach, dark bags under his eyes as he hands her an arrow. Her heart aches for him and a little part of her sighs in relief as the ache spreads through her body. Death hasn’t taken her feelings away from her, at the very least. She kisses his cheek and she can feel his whole body tremble at her touch.  


Everything is different between them. Not just between her and Percy, but the whole group. She sees the way Vax’s eyes follow Percy around the room and the way the gunslinger slinks away as soon as he notices his silent observer. Keyleth avoids both Vex and Vax, sticking close to Percy and talking to him in hushed whispers. Even with Grog and Scanlan, usually unmoved by the mayhem surrounding them, are off slightly.

* * *

She holds the broom in her hands, staring down at it. She wanted flight so she took it herself. Scanlan’s guilt-tripping wasn’t necessary: she feels like shit for stealing it from their ally. It doesn’t make the pleasure she feels when she’s on it go away.  


She feels their eyes follow her on the broom as she shows it off to them the first time. With every turn and every moment where her grip momentarily slips, she feels their hearts skip a beat in fear.  


Keyleth is the only one who speaks up, begging her to be careful with sad eyes.  


She lowers herself next to the druid, taking her hands in her own. She doesn’t get off the broom. “I’m not afraid to die anymore!”  


She’s not.  


That is what scares her.  


“Well, that's phenomenal that _you’ve_ come to terms with it. I don't know about the rest of us in the room that all watched you die though.” Keyleth’s voice is bitter as she lifts her drink back to her lips. Percy shakes his head, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. Vex feels a pang of guilt watching the two of them. She knows Keyleth speaks from a place of worry and she knows that Percy likely agrees with her but feels too much guilt to talk back to Vex. Her eyes sweep the rest of the table to look at her friends’ expressions.  


Her eyes lock with her brother’s and she nearly overwhelmed by the sadness in them. The price that he payed for her life weighs heavy on both of them. She sees that weight as she looks her twin over, taking in the dark circles under his eyes and the way he refuses to tear his eyes away from her as if he’s afraid that if he lets her out of his sight she’ll vanish in a puff of smoke.  


After a few moments of pleading for her safety Keyleth relents, leaning into Percy as she watches Vex still straddle the broom. “I don’t want her to die.”  


“I know,” Percy murmurs, pushing a mug of coffee in front of the young half-elf.  


Vex looks down at her plate, appetite lost. She shoves the guilt she feels for scaring her family deep down inside of her. She wishes that the worst pain she knew was scraped knees; the worst fall a tumble down the village stairs.


End file.
